


Laugh at the Moon

by Tabithian



Series: Light the Path [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham's dangerous, everyone knows. (It's why they have Batman and Robin, and they're why Tim's exactly where he shouldn't be, chasing after them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laugh at the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> supercomicgirl asked for DickTim as werewolves and the whatnot, and then this happened? IDK.
> 
> /o\

Gotham's dangerous, everyone knows. (It's why they have Batman and Robin, and they're why Tim's exactly where he shouldn't be, chasing after them.)

Not everyone knows just how dangerous, though. That there really are monsters out there. Fangs in the dark, sharp and gleaming in a face covered in fur and blood.

There's a low snarl, click of nails.

Tim takes a careful step back, and then another. 

Doesn't make the mistake of looking away from the predator in front of him, glimpses another creeping in from the side.

Knows, _knows_ how this is going to end when the first one throws its head back and howls, the second darting out of the shadows towards him.

Tim can only run so fast on two feet.

********

He makes it a street away, heart pounding, when there's a clatter from up high, Tim skidding into a crouch out of reflex, coming up with his camera clutched in his hand. The strap is wrapped tight around his hand, ready to swing out with his makeshift weapon.

Laughs, borderline hysterical when he sees _another_ wolf, smaller than the first two, sleek black fur where the other two are a mottled gray.

They stare at one another for a long moment, and then the first two wolves burst into view, one headed straight for Tim, the other juking to the side towards the new wolf.

Tim barely registers the snarling, so much white noise now, and scrambles to get to his feet. Thinks he might be able to make it to the dumpster at the edge of the alley, and maybe, maybe - 

Something hits him from the side, _hard_ , sends him tumbling. Cries out when claws rake his back, fangs close on his calf and he kicks out, desperate. Twists around and slams the camera against the wolf's head hard enough that it lets go.

Tim - 

He can feel blood, hot and slick on his leg, sees it on the wolf's fangs when he growls, lunges for him.

The black wolf throws itself between them, snarling and growling, so, so fast. Tim looks for the other wolf, sees it dragging itself away, shoulder a bloody mess. 

A quick look at his leg and he's swallowing hard. Blood darkening the fabric of his jeans, hands shaking as he checks the damage, all too aware of how vulnerable that makes him, but he can't run like this, and the wolves have already proven how fast they are. 

They'd be on him before he could take two limping steps.

Breathes out a sigh when he sees it's not as bad as he'd thought, not the prettiest but given everything, better than he could have hoped for.

Tim looks up at a vicious snarl followed by a pained yelp and sees the second gray wolf turn tail and run, and then it's just Tim and the black wolf staring at one another. 

(And oh, yes, there's no way these are normal wolves, no, not with how big they are. With the way this one is watching him.)

“Um,” Tim says, wonders, why he's just _sitting there_. “Thank you?”

The wolf cocks its head, just so.

There are lights going on in the buildings around them. Not too long before someone gets up the courage to look out their window to see a kid bleeding in the street talking to a wolf, so.

“Right,” Tim says. “Okay.”

Manages to get on his feet, more or less and tries to shoo the wolf away, but all that does is make him wobble dangerously, pain shooting up his leg.

“Okay,” Tim says, sucks in a sharp breath when something in his leg twinges – probably not good? “Bad idea, got it.”

The wolf whines, takes a step toward him, and Tim.

He's seen what it's capable of, what it did to the other wolves – and maybe any other night that might not be something he'd ever expect to think – but.

“Go on, shoo, scat,” Tim says. “I'm good.”

He didn't even know wolves, even one like this one, could look so unimpressed, but there it is.

“Seriously,” Tim says. “Get out of here before anyone sees you.”

Another whine, the wolf's ears going back and Tim.

Tim sighs, gaze going to the buildings around them and back to the wolf.

“Fine, fine,” Tim says, and starts limping towards home, the wolf trailing along behind him.

“Are you actually going to walk me home?”

And Tim should maybe not be. Not _okay_ with this, what with having been chased and bitten and all that, but.

But the wolf is looking at him like he's not the brightest bulb out there, and.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Tim says, and wonders why this doesn't feel as strange to him as it probably should.

********

Tim stares at the claw marks on the walls of his bedroom, his bed that's been absolutely shredded. At the place on his wall where his calendar that helpfully showed the phases of the moon used to be, but he doesn't need to see it to know there was a full moon the night before. 

He can taste blood in his mouth, and doesn't look at the corner of his room where - 

Doesn't look at the corner of his room.

Rabbits _scream_ , Tim knows now.

“I'm in so much trouble.”

(He's lucky his parents decided to move out of Gotham proper, is what he is.)

********

There are not, Tim finds out later, any handy guidebooks for this sort of thing. Not so much as a pamphlet.

What there is are a veritable plethora of websites dedicated to werewolves (oh, god, what is Tim's life now) from every conceivable piece of media known to man, but none of it is in any way helpful.

He hasn't seen so much as a hair of the black wolf, or any other wolf in Gotham since that night, and Tim has _looked_.

High and low and everywhere in between with no luck.

Tim stares at his computer screen, the latest site he's gone to in hopes of finding useful information.

Overused fonts and overall horrible website design choices. Little animated gifs of howling wolves placed haphazardly and paw prints wandering across the page.

This is.

Tim sighs, opens his word processor and creates a new file. 

Dithers around for a bit and ends up typing a little smiley face with fangs and saves the file as _How to Werewolf_ , because why not, really. 

(He'll come back to it later, add little notes and observations as he figures things out, but doesn't quite have the heart for it just yet.)

********

Given time, Tim gets a handle on things. 

(...for the most part.)

Learns how to keep his head during the full moon, how to work with his new instincts instead of trying to control them.

Gets a handle on moving around on four legs, discovering his limits. Running for the thrill of it, exhilarating and new, in his new form,

Creeping through the long grass at the edge of their property to stalk a wild rabbit, giving chase when it bolts. Learning how to interpret what his enhanced senses are telling him, sight and scent and sound.

Doesn't startle when he sees his reflection in the little pond in the garden. Stares and stares and stares at the wolf looking back at him, pale eyes and dark fur, save for a small line of white that curves slightly down low on one of his hind legs.)

Realizes, a little belatedly, that his senses are sharper even when he's not a wolf, and that.

That is oh so helpful, given some of his hobbies.

********

He hasn't really ventured out at night since he learned what he is – what he became – too worried about unknown factors, but.

That.

It isn't. 

It's not _Dick_.

Doesn't look like him, move like him.

Tim growls, low in his throat before he can help himself.

Rubs a hand over his face, counts backwards from ten.

Takes the lens cap off the camera and sets to work because it may not be Dick, but this is still a Robin, and that's.

It's important.

********

There's a new vigilante in Bludhaven, black and blue and gold, and when Tim sees a blurry photo of him, thinks, _Oh_.

(And maybe, _why_? Because that _suit_.)

********

When someone sneaks up on him one night, Tim discovers that he's able to change when the moon isn't full.

He can change when he perceives a great enough threat, which makes him wonder if that means that it might be possible to change at will, but for now.

“Holy fuck, what - “

Tim growls, ears going back.

Shows off those fangs of his, sharp, dangerous as anything else in Gotham.

“Goddamn freak!”

Tim can smell fear, terror, when the thug takes aim and fires. 

Forgets the safety's on, has been the whole time, and panics. Hurls it at Tim, who sidesteps neatly. Takes one slow step forward.

Tim would laugh, if he could, when the thug screams and runs, never looking back.

********

Something is wrong.

Has the wolf in him restless, anxious. 

Tim doesn't know what it is, can't put it into words, but he can feel it, like a weight on his chest. (Like animals sense the change in pressure before a storm.)

Batman and Robin aren't in Gotham, and when he checks, there are no sightings of Nightwing in Bludhaven.

Something is _wrong_.

********

Jason Todd is dead, Batman needs help, and Tim can hear a wolf howling in Bludhaven.

He's here for a reason, but for now - 

Tim lifts his head and adds his voice. 

Closes his eyes and gives over to the wolf in him, mourns for Jason and the family he left behind.

********

Dick looks at him, head tilted just so. 

“Huh.”

Tim smiles, teeth sharper than they should be. 

“Didn't think I'd see you again,” Dick says.

Which.

“Okay, fine,” Dick says, giving him a look. “I didn't think I'd see you anywhere besides a public function.”

Because they have seen one another, in passing at most, at some gala or charity event since the night Tim was bitten. Tim's managed to wriggle his way out of them (for the most part) since after his first full moon as a werewolf, citing some reason or other his parents had reluctantly accepted. 

Before then he wouldn't have known what Dick is, wouldn't have known what to look for, but.

“Sometimes it doesn't take,” Dick says with a shrug. “I kept an eye on you the first month, just in case.”

That's. 

Tim didn't know, which.

Dick grins at the look that has to be on his face, because.

Dick. 

More or less admitting to stalking Tim, and that's. 

Tim.

“Oh my God, stop it,” Tim mutters.

Oh, and now Dick's laughing at him, fantastic.

And anyway, Tim hadn't _changed_ for while after he'd been bitten. After he'd caught some kind of bug from a classmate that had him bedridden for days.

Maybe.

Hmm. 

Something that might be worth looking into. Tim knows there's something of a healing factor involved in this, being a werewolf, but there might be more to it he hasn't considered. (Wonders if the bug he'd caught had been a kind of catalyst, if that's even possible or if he's just reaching.)

“You're not...” Dick trail off, eyes narrowing as he looks at Tim.

“What?”

Dick waves a hand at Tim. “Most people don't react well to being bitten,” he says. “They kind of go crazy.”

Tim looks at him.

“Ah,” Dick says delicately. “Point.”

Because Tim had gone to Bludhaven for a reason, hadn't he. Had gone to Dick about Bruce, and gotten a wee bit sidetracked because Dick is a werewolf. (Not exactly the decisions a sane person might make, really.) 

It explains so much though. Fills in the blanks in Tim's head, reasons why and _oh, yes, that makes sense now_ where Dick is concerned. 

“You know,” Dick says with a slow grin. “I have a better idea.”

“What?”

Dick leans forward. 

“The reason you came to talk to me?” Dick prods. 

And.

Tim.

He doesn't like that look on Dick's face, that _smile_ , no, not at all.

“No?”

Dick's grin widens, and, oh. There's a little fang showing right there.

“No,” Tim says again, firmer. “Terrible idea, Dick. Terrible.”

********

Bruce doesn't know. 

********

“How?” Tim asks, hands flailing. “How does he not know?”

Dick cocks his head to the side, tail doing a slow sweep behind him.

“Seriously!” Tim says, points at Dick. “There's animal hair over all your stuff!”

(And a neat little container of lint brushes, supplied by Alfred.) 

“You don't have any pets!”

How does Bruce not know?

Dick whines, stretches his neck out and takes hold of one of Tim's wrists, tugs.

Tim looks at him.

Dick tugs again, pulling Tim towards the window. Releases Tim, and gives him a curious look.

Tim.

“Seriously,” Tim says. “He's _Batman_. How does he not know?”

Dick huffs, noses at the window latch and throws a look back at Tim, bit of a challenge in it this time.

There's a full moon in a few days, and they've both been feeling the need to _run_ , but there's the thing with Tim being Robin now, and all those little pesky responsibilities that come with it.

(Bruce who doesn't know Dick - _Tim_ \- are werewolves, and Dick who doesn't seem all that interested in telling him. Had given Tim a vague little shrug when he'd asked if Dick ever intended to tell Bruce.) 

Dick circles back around to Tim, starts pushing him towards the window, impatient.

Tim looks back at him, this oversize wolf with Dick's eyes who's been training him, answering questions Tim never knew to ask about being a werewolf, and he does things like this too, gets Tim to _play_.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim says, why not.

********

This, probably.

********

Tim snarls, goes for Dick's throat.

Dick twists to side, impossibly flexible even now, and comes back at Tim with his shoulder and throws his weight behind it, sending Tim off balance.

A light nip at his side as Tim is trying to recover, but Dick was literally born to this. Comes from a bloodline that goes back centuries, and Tim is.

Tim is losing badly, snaps at Dick when he dances in again, taunting Tim.

There's laughter in his eyes as he goes in for the kill, tumbles Tim on his back, jaws closing around his throat.

Tim goes still.

Whines, low, and Dick squeezes, _warning_ , before letting Tim go. Lets him roll over on his belly before he plops down over him.

Tim grumbles, tries to throw him off, but this is Dick, and he's a master cuddler no matter what form he's in.

Dick makes a pleased little noise, rests his head on Tim's back and Tim doesn't need to look to see the smug satisfaction in his eyes.

********

Bruce is _looking_ at them, this little frown on his face.

Dick is curled up around Tim, face pressed against the back of his neck.

“Scarecrow,” Tim says, as though Oracle hasn't told him everything he needs to know by now. It had been an ordeal getting Dick back to the manor safely. Dick had been fighting the change every step of the way as well as the Toxin's grip on him, holding on by sheer force of will. (Head canted, eyes closed tight against whatever the Toxin was making him see, focusing on Tim's voice, scent, beat of his heart.)

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

Tim does the same.

Knows Bruce can't see the little bit of fang Tim can feel against the back of his neck. A lingering consequence of Dick getting a faceful of Fear Toxin and fighting the need to change, to _protect_. 

(Tim can feel his own fangs riding near the surface in response, his wolf close under his skin, nerves running high.)

The longer he knows him, the more Tim suspects Bruce does know (he's _Batman_ ), but for whatever reason doesn't ask. Suspects Dick knows Bruce knows, and they're engaged in some bizarre game of who does plausible deniability best, and have somehow dragged Tim into it.

But.

Dick's fairly well established himself as being a tactile person by nature, is just being himself when he drapes an arm around Tim's shoulders, ruffles his hair, tackles him for an impromptu wrestling match wherever they may be. Whether they're down in the Batcave or in the manor. (On a rooftop in Gotham while Bruce questions his life choices and Barbara takes bets.)

Bruce and Alfred have been exposed to the particular phenomenon of Dick being Dick long enough that they don't even bat an eye at any of that, so this.

Not really that odd for Dick, given the circumstances.

Bruce sighs, smooths Dick's hair back - 

And Dick _whines_ , pushes against Bruce's hand.

Tim looks at Bruce.

Bruce looks back.

“Try to get some rest,” Bruce says, after a long moment, closes the door behind him.

********

“Dick, come on,” Tim says, tries to get up, but Dick reaches up without looking and pulls him back down, Dick grumbling as he pulls pushes and nudges, arranging Tim just so against him. “Bruce - “

Scarecrow might be in Arkham at the moment, but there are other threats out there, dangers, and Bruce will come looking for them eventually.

“No,” Dick mumbles, tugs the blanket over them like he really thinks Bruce won't find them when they're in the manor, seriously, Dick. “It's too early.”

Tim.

Tim sighs, elbows Dick out of principle and pulls the blankets down again because it's always nice to be able to breathe.

********

They're not a true pack, from the stories Dick's told Tim, but. 

They do okay for themselves.


	2. Cry for the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim twists around to look at Dick, their faces inches apart because Jason attacked Tim, fur and fang, and nearly ripped his throat out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands*

The thing with Jason.

********

“Oh, no,” Dick says, when they're safely back at the manor. 

“No, no, no.” 

Tim.

Tim twists around to look at Dick, their faces inches apart because Jason attacked Tim, fur and fang, and nearly ripped his throat out. 

(There's no way Bruce can pretend he doesn't know now, not when Tim had _changed_. Been forced to shift when faced with the threat Jason presented. When Dick showed up not too long after, sleek black fur and bared fangs.)

But the thing is, Tim knows Jason wasn't like them when he was Robin, when Tim followed Batman and Robin over Gotham's rooftops. (Tim would have known then.)

Dick has his eyes squeezed shut, pained look on his face.

“What?”

Waits, because.

“I bit him,” Dick says, so very quiet.

“You did what?” 

“It wasn't like that,” Dick says, opening his eyes, holding Tim's gaze with his own. “Tim, it wasn't like that that, I promise.”

Because Tim and his terrible life choices and a dark alley, fangs in the dark. 

“What happened?” 

“It. We were playing, wrestling,” Dick says, embarrassed. “Little brat – Jason was. He _bit_ me, and I.”

Dick does a full body shrug, “I bit him back.”

“He never - “

“I. no,” Dick says, thinking. “I watched him after that. He seemed fine, never showed any signs that he was like us, so.” 

Dick shrugs, embarrassment and guilt. “...I forgot.”

Tim.

Tim sighs.

Jason is.

They're going to have to deal with him sooner or later (sooner, most likely, seeing how determined he was) but.

“You're explaining this to Bruce,” he says, because that is a conversation Tim wants exactly no part of.

(Good God, _no_.)


End file.
